


A Line in the Sand

by Tiikeria



Series: Care for Me? [17]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Gen, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiikeria/pseuds/Tiikeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bent. Not broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Line in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> [BLAME](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88135185027/they-purposely-split-up-from-the-others-geoff-and) [AVE](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88135574012/he-struggles-to-sit-up-and-looks-around-beside-him) [AND](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88135989107/even-his-hazy-mind-could-understand-what-that-meant) [HER](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88136677432/geoff-raised-his-head-laboriously-and-with) [HEARTWRENCHING](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88136931067/worse-worse-geoff-youve-been-bitten-for-gods) [ASK](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88137142937/he-fought-back-tears-he-never-cried-not-really-and) [STORY](http://tiikeria.tumblr.com/post/88137653237/geoff-im-sorry-ill-look-after-millie-i-promise). I HAD TO MAKE IT WORSE. MUCH WORSE. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS PAINFUL EXPERIENCE. [Lyrics and title from Linkin Park’s “A Line in the Sand”]

_Today, we stood on the wall_  
 _We laughed at the sun_  
 _We laughed at the guns_  
 _We laughed at it all_  
  
 _And when they, they told us to go_  
 _We paid them no mind_  
 _Like every other time_  
 _Little did we know_  
  
Ryan caught him when he started to collapse, wrapping his arms around the British man clutching Geoff’s shotgun. He was alone. No sign of Geoff anywhere nearby. Tears warming his shirt only confirmed the horrible realization he came to. They had lost their leader, their father.  
  
They had lost their Geoff.  
  
Gavin refused to speak as they made their way back to home base, the dilapidated building of Stage 5 serving as the survivors’ shelter, though there weren’t too many of them left. The Achievement Hunters had stood strong, that is, until today, and breaking the news to the rest of their crew had been the hardest thing Ryan had ever had to do; watching Jack crumble at the information, Michael flying into a broken rage, Ray moving to curl up next to Gavin, the youngest Lads seeking comfort in each other. Lindsay could only try to soothe her husband, letting his hoarse and choked cries escape into her hair. Caleb sagged against the wall, hiding his face from them all; Kdin simply turned and disappeared into what had been Team Thugs’ hidey-hole, obviously mourning his own way.   
  
The only thing worse than telling the Hunters, had been telling Geoff’s closest friends. Burnie broke down; Matt hid his face in his hands, not wanting to believe the words; Joel went into vehement denial, searching the building for the younger man, only giving in when he wasn’t able to find him; Gus shut everyone out, locking himself in the supply room, preferring to mechanically work than think about the loss.  
  
No one took it as bad as Gavin.  
  
He didn’t speak, he didn’t eat, he barely moved. They all tried. They all sat with him, waiting for him to come back to them. It was like a seizure that would never end; the life was just sucked from Gavin’s eyes, leaving a haunting visage in its wake. All they could do was watch over him, making sure he was still breathing, still living in the most basic form of the word. It became common for one of them to curl up with him, trying to bring him back from the darkness he had isolated himself to; Ryan would gently hold him against his chest like he would one of his own children, gently stroking Gavin’s long hair, allowing the British man to cry if he needed to. Jack would do something similar, though he would often sit the man up, trying to get him to eat the lukewarm soup or drink some of the water they had purified that morning. Michael would lay next to him, quietly talking to him about before: reminding him of the Team Nice Dynamite shenanigans that happened in the very room they were in. Ray would curl beside him, a quiet comfort, allowing Gavin to hold him like a child would hold a teddy bear. It was all they could do.  
  
None of them were Geoff. And they never would be. Not to the broken Lad.  
  
It was a week later that Gavin finally, brokenly, spoke into Ryan’s chest, fingers gripping the soft, green fabric, spinning the tale of Geoff’s last moments in the abandoned 7/11 they had been holed up in; Gavin having a seizure; Geoff protecting him at the cost of his life; Geoff forcing him out of the building, not wanting his adopted son to see him turn; his promise to care for the man’s family in his absence. Ryan’s heart only managed to shatter more for the man he considered a friend, a brother.   
  
Finally, the confession of guilt that painfully made its way out between Gavin’s chapped lips; he blamed himself. He blamed his illness, his fucked up brain, for Geoff’s death. The one thing he had been the most terrified about had come to pass, despite Geoff’s assurance that it would all be okay if it happened. It would all be okay.  
  
He lied.  
  
 _He lied_ , Gavin had cried into his chest, Ryan hearing the soft gasps from the other Hunters in the pitch-black room,  _He lied and it’s all my fault._  
  
Michael’s voice had been strong, cutting though the inky blackness filling the room,  _No, he didn’t lie. Because, to him, it_ is _okay. Because you’re alive._  
  
 _That’s all he wanted,_ Jack spoke next, voice soft and soothing as Gavin’s eyes trained on him,  _To make sure you survived. That you were alright. You, Griffon and Millie were his priority._  
  
 _He told us all to take care of you if anything happened to him,_ Ray joined in, voice equally as quiet,  _He made us promise._  
  
 _And we’re doing what we can, Gavin, for him. He wanted you to survive, and we’ll be damned if we let him down,_ Ryan’s voice rumbled through Gavin’s body as he finally turned to look at the Gent, tears on his cheeks; Gavin wasn’t the type to cry, but everything was so fucking painful right then. Geoff’s only wish was for him to be okay, for him to survive this hell-hole they were living in; he wanted it so much that he had been willing to give his life to protect the foreigner. They were all willing to give their lives. Why?  
  
Why protect a broken man like him? Why protect someone who couldn’t even protect himself?   
  
 _Because,_ Ryan quietly answered his questions that he didn’t mean to ask,  _You aren’t broken, Gavin. Bent. Not broken. Isn’t that what Geoff always said?_  
  
 _And we protect you, because we know you’ll do the same for us, boi. You would fight for us, just like we fight for you,_ Michael had come closer, resting a hand on Gavin’s arm. Jack came to sit on the arm of the once white couch, ruffling Gavin’s hair tenderly; Ray managed to squeeze himself beside Gavin and Ryan, curling close, letting Gavin rest his arm around the smaller man. He rested his head on Ryan’s chest once more, clinging to the feeling of the rest of his family so close, needing to have them close. Needing to know he wasn’t about to lose them as well. He couldn’t lose anyone else.  
  
Not again.  
  
The weeks dragged on; more fell. Stage 5 started to become quieter, emptier each passing day. Some decided to strike out, try to find somewhere safer. Others stayed, hoping they could save what was left of their home. Hope was failing, hearts were heavy. It was like a weight was hanging over their heads, the weight of impending death. They weren’t going to make it out alive. How could they? They were alone, against an entire world full of undead abominations that wanted nothing more than to destroy those who still lived. Still the Hunters stood together, even after losing Kdin and Caleb to the hoard. They were dwindling, they were mourning, but they were still fighting. For Geoff, for Kdin, for Caleb, for everyone they had lost since the universe decided humans had ruled long enough. The names glistened on the barrel of Geoff’s - no,  _Gavin’s_  - shotgun, some written in a familiar hand, never to be written again. Newer in the scrawl associated with the British man’s hand. A tradition Geoff had started, and Gavin intended to keep until the end.  
  
Seizures still came. He refused to go on raids, on scouting expeditions, preferring to stay in the improvised bunker where he wouldn’t be a danger to his comrades. He hadn’t left since the fateful day they had lost their leader. Preferring to only be a danger to himself, keeping his seizures quiet, so very unlike before, when a phone would ring the moment the aura came. Not anymore. No warning. No burdening them. They had their own lives to protect and worry about. They had loved ones in other parts of the city, other parts of the world. It wasn’t fair for them to worry about him.  
  
They might not have to for long. Not when the world came crashing down around their heads in the form of news from Michael and Ray, both bloody and exhausted, but, luckily, unbitten. Michael’s eyes had met Gavin’s, and the pain and anguish told him everything he needed to know, Michael’s words unnecessary.  
  
“We saw him. We saw Geoff. He’s one of them.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ray whispered, his head down, studiously watching as Jack cleaned and bandaged a gash on the younger man’s arm, “I…I couldn’t bring myself to…to…”  
  
“Shoot him?”  
  
The cool and emotionless way Gavin spoke made them cringe, Gavin’s eyes hardened, a wall dividing them from his inner turmoil. Geoff didn’t deserve that. Geoff wasn’t a monster. No, something had to be done, didn’t it? And it was to be Gavin’s burden to bear. His seizures caused Geoff’s demise, and he’d be damned if he let Geoff’s memory be tainted by his body possessed by one of those fucking atrocities.   
  
Silence was left in his wake as he left the room.  
  
The sound of metal scraping against metal was all that could be heard in the room that had, at one time, been his very own office. Trinkets littered the rotting desk, some broken, some dirty, some looking like they had the day the outbreak began all those months ago. But those didn’t interest him. No. The quiet scraping of the pocket knife against the barrel of the shotgun was his focus now. Letter by letter, scratch by scratch, words started to appear above the names littering the black metal. It glinted as he worked, the light of the pocket flashlight his only illumination. The moon was starting to rise; he was going to have to leave soon. He couldn’t risk their lives, he couldn’t ask them to join him. No, this was his mission. And his alone. He dropped the knife on the desk’s faux wooden surface, surveying his handiwork.  
  
 _Bent Not Broken._  
  
The light of the waxing moon glinted off the barrel of the shotgun held securely in his hands as he crept along the streets of Austin. He felt numb, cold, as he hunted, refusing to allow his fear, his sadness, and his guilt to eat at him. His focus was this. Zombies be damned if they got in his way; he was showing no mercy, tonight.   
  
The streets darkened as the clouds rolled in, thunder starting to echo between the once lively buildings downtown. His boots and the crunching of glass accompanied the rumble, rain starting to hit the cracked pavement, soaking his body, though he couldn’t feel it. His senses were all trained on their task, their task of hunting down one thing.  
  
 _Geoff._  
  
Dead blue eyes met cold green; a growl met the barrel of a shotgun. He looked much like he had before, though his skin was sunken and grey, the bite mark still showing through his ripped jeans. The bite that Gavin was responsible for. The bite he was about to get redeemed for. Geoff never wanted this. Never wanted to become one of them. He wouldn’t have to be, after tonight.  
  
For the first time since he left Stage 5, he could feel. He felt the rush of anger at the beasts for taking his mentor from him; anger at Geoff for giving his life for him; anger at the others for allowing him to go with Geoff that day.  
  
Anger at himself for being so weak. So broken.  
  
 _No. Bent. Not broken._  
  
Geoff’s voice rang in his mind as he lifted the gun, taking aim. The creature wearing Geoff’s face obviously knew it was in danger, and wasn’t about to go without a fight. It lunged forward as his finger pulled on the trigger.  
  
A single gunshot rang out amongst the buildings and the rain. Then, silence.


End file.
